Supernatural Imagines

Pretty kitty

I had a cat laying on the backs of my legs while I was laying on my bed. After a few hours of being trapped under her eepy lil body, USING MY ASS AS A PILLOW... I had a wonderful idea.

Sam's P.O.V.

As I round the corner of the antiques shop, my arm extends outwards aiming towards the witch that had been causing nothing but mischief and trouble, killings and so much more in a little part of town just a few minutes from the bunker.

"Witch killing bullets," I snarl in her direction wiping a smirk clean off her face. "I'd think again before you do anything."

A smirk and the quirk of her brows start again. Her hand raises waving her fingers. "Gia na kratíseis mia gáta, tha prépie na skotóseis eména," she hisses. The gun drops from my hands, a stabbing pain throughout my bones and muscles feeling the zap of electricity waved towards me. My eyes screw shut, sinking down further to the floor. "Have fun, kitten," she mused. "You have 24 hours, and if anyone kills me, you're stuck forever." She shifts her weight onto one hip, an arm crossing over her stomach while her other arm uses the leverage to frame her jaw with her fingers. "You should look in a mirror. You look so much prettier this way."

I look around me, seeing my clothes surrounding me, then look down to my hands. Oh god. Paws.

Readers P.O.V.

I curl up onto the couch, laying on my side, waiting for Sam to walk through the bunker doors but to no avail. It's been almost two hours since he said he would be heading into the hunt which should have taken 15-20 minutes tops. So what the fuck is taking him so long?

I had a night kind of planned for the both of us. I had hoped he would want to watch a movie with me we've seen more than a million times while we talk. Maybe I'd even be able to tell him how I feel. Dean has been pushing me to and it seems like after a hunt that's the least bit stressful, it would be my chance. I've been in love with him for so long, always choosing him over anything else. I just hope he feels the same.

As I pull the blankets up higher a weight pounces onto my legs. I look down, my eyes widening as I see none other than a cat. A mainecoon cat with chestnut fur with lighter brown calico patches and a black spot on their chest, a little over towards the left.

"Well hello there, honey," I hum reaching out, and it nuzzles into the palm of my hand, eyes closing as ears relax, a small smile picking up on their lips. "Who might you be?" I sit up just enough, arms extending out to it and they move up my legs, sitting in my lap.

They move a little higher, paws climbing up my chest and their head presses against my forehead before pulling back, kneading at the cotton shirt before tucking in their paws and lying down. My brows furrow as it stares at me. "You don't have a collar," I mutter, letting my fingers run through their fur. "So I'm assuming you're a stray." At that I can see all the emotions play against its features. Ears flatten backwards, its tail waving from side to side, giving a face none other than a bitch face Sam would give me. "Sam," I hum, brows raising as my eyes become more wide as it clicks a whole lot quicker than I thought it would and the cat stands, head-butting me again all while purring. "Of course you're a fucking mainecoon, you're fucking huge. Can you get off me? You're heavy." He hisses before hopping down and I end up following him.

"Dean!" I call out as Sam and I make our way towards the library and he ends up jumping onto the table. "Dean, come here-"

"What the fuck-"

"It's Sam." I cut him off as he walks further into the library staring at the cat on the table. "He jumped onto my chest and I figured it out. Go get some paper."